To the Sky
by Dreams of Disaster
Summary: How can Harry live when there's nothing worth living for?


Disclaimer: I do not own any of J. K. Rowling's characters (e.g. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Severus Snape, Hedwig, etc.) and I do not own the lyrics or music to the Owl City song "To the Sky". "To the Sky" was my primary inspiration to writing this fanfiction. I do not reap any monetary benefits for my writing efforts. Thank you.

Extra Note: This is only the first stanza to "To the Sky" and this fanfiction will be continued. It is not a oneshot like my previous fanfiction. Thanks again.

* * *

_**Shipwreck in a sea of faces**_  
_**There's a dreamy world up there**_  
_**Dear friends in higher places**_  
_**Carry me away from here**_

And then they were inside.

Harry James Potter stared up at the ceiling of the Great Hall with considerable awe, and most of his classmates did the same. For the moment, even Draco Malfoy was silent, too shocked by the shimmering stars and indigo sky to boast about his father. Harry wasn't kidding himself though. He was sure that in a moment, the younger Malfoy would be exulting upon the fact that his father helped enchant the ceiling of the Hall along with the Founders of Hogwarts themselves. Crabbe and Goyle merely stared dumbly up at the ceiling along with the others. Harry couldn't tell whether or not they liked the view because their unintelligent facial expressions gave none of their emotions (if they even had them) away.

Next to him, Ron was shivering and muttering under his breath about how he was going to _kill_ Fred and George for humiliating him. "I mean," he stated loudly to no one at great intervals, "it's just a great bloody hat we have to try on! Stupid Fred. Stupid George. Why'd they say it was a giant?"

"Abbot, Hannah," Professor McGonagall called, her horn-rimmed glasses sliding downward. Harry blocked out Ron's rant and focused on the Sorting. He didn't want to do anything wrong himself as he sat under the hat.

A small, blond-haired girl detached herself from the rest of the group and stumbled slightly as she walked towards the Sorting Stool. Harry noted that she was visibly trembling but couldn't fault her. She had been put on the spot. He was sure that if he had been called first, he might have tripped over something. Or sat on air rather than the stool itself.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat screamed, and Hannah sat down, still shaking, at a table where everyone's ties were black and yellow. The members of that table seemed friendly, Harry thought. Maybe he could be in Hufflepuff, too.

The Sorting progressed, and Harry gazed around the Hall, taking in the sights. A table in red and gold seemed boisterous and excitable. In contrast, the one in silver and green contained students that seemed distinctly disdainful. They looked down their noses at the rest of the tables. Their facial expressions unnerved Harry and he felt he didn't want to be on the opposite end of their wands.

"Malfoy, Draco." The Hat had barely rested on Malfoy's white-blond head before it declared, "SLYTHERIN!"

"Always knew he was a slimy snake," Ron commented. "My father said there hasn't been a single Malfoy who hasn't been in Slytherin."

Harry didn't reply as his mouth was frozen in a sudden wave of fear.

And then...

"Potter, Harry!" Whispers broke out across the Hall, and some people blatantly stared at Harry's diminutive stature and famous lightning-bolt scar.

"You'd have thought he'd be bigger than that. He looks like a girl!" "I wonder if he likes me." "That's the Boy Who Lived!" "God, that's him!"

"Harry, mate, it's your turn," Ron's voice trailed off as he anxiously nudged Harry towards the Sorting Hat. "You 'kay?" Harry was not okay. A miasma of color swam across his vision. Shapes blurred together and McGonagall's impatient expression faded into the sea of faces around him. The last time Harry had been this nervous was when an elementary school teacher - Mrs. Jones - had noticed his bruises and scars from Uncle Vernon's belt. Scratch that. Mrs. Jones had been the first person to notice Harry's pain _and_ try to do something about it.

_"Harry, are you feeling all right?" Mrs. Jones asked, worry flitting across her pretty, dark brown face._

_Harry could feel the anxiety building up somewhere deep inside him. He felt tremendously afraid all of a sudden, and tiny, like a delicate beetle that could be squished in an instant. Or a pawn on a chessboard that had been forced into a position of great danger. "I'm fine, Mrs. Jones," he said, forcing a cheerful smile onto his face. "Why, is there anything wrong?" he countered._

_Mrs. Jones gave him a glance of great pity and sadness. In a dark corner of his mind, Harry felt a wave of anger. How dare this Muggle ("What is that?" Harry thought. "Maybe a mugger?") woman feel sorry for him? He, the great - _

_Then the angry part was replaced by swift guilt. Mrs. Jones still stared sadly at him. "If you need anything Harry, anything at all, my door is always open for you," she said sympathetically. "I know there is something wrong with your family, Harry," she stated matter-of-factly, some anger slipping onto her face, too. A sick feeling started in the pit of Harry's stomach. "But there is nothing I can do about it until you tell me what is happening. Or tell anyone, for that matter," she amended.  
_

_"It doesn't matter, Mrs. Jones," Harry said, steeling his expression against what he was going to say next. "My family is very good to me. I get my injuries because I am simply very clumsy." _

_Mrs. Jones frowned. "My offer still stands."  
_

_"I guess I won't need it then," Harry smiled robotically, repeating what Uncle Vernon had trained him to say. "Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Jones," he ended formally. "But absolutely nothing is wrong."  
_

_As Uncle Vernon (if he even deserved the title) rained blows on Harry's back that night, screaming at Harry because of his 100% on a math test, Harry wondered belatedly whether he should have accepted Mrs. Jones's help. Then, he shook his head. She was the same, just like the others who had never asked. She was no different.  
_

_More than ever, Harry wished someone would get him out of this hellhole. Blood seeped onto the floor and Harry grew dizzy at the sight of it. A metallic smell drifted into his nose and he gagged. Uncle Vernon's shouting grew louder and louder and he was shaking harder and harder..._

"HARRY POTTER! Get up here immediately!" Professor McGonagall screeched, and Harry's yearmates backed away from him, creating a small circle of emptiness around the glassy-eyed Harry.

Harry walked to the Sorting Hat as if in a trance. As blackness surrounded his head, a thin, reedy voice whistled through his mind.

**Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived.**

Yes, that's me.

There was a soft sound, like the flipping of pages in a book. Harry's mind felt odd, as if it was being shuffled through and _read_. Then, there was a terrible silence. Harry grew worried. Was he unworthy? Was the Hat going to say he wasn't magic and couldn't go to Hogwarts? Or maybe, he was a freak...

Mr. Hat, sir, are you still there?

**I am so, so sorry, my boy. You have been dealt the short ends in life. No one deserves this hardship, least of all you.**

Mr. Hat, it's fine. I'm still a freak. The Dursleys hate me. I don't have any friends, and I don't deserve any either.

**You are not a freak, Harry, son of James. You are the bravest, most selfless soul I have seen in a very long time. However, you have a very low self-esteem and will need friends who will stop you from sacrificing yourself for an uncaring world. You will be great, Harry Potter; there is no doubt. Whether this greatness will be light or dark is left for you to decide.**

What? I'm not brave at all. I think you're describing what everyone wants me to be, not what I really am.

Harry could nearly feel the Hat smile, if Hats can smile.

**And humble to boot.** Then, the Hat's smile disappeared and it said gravely, **You will laugh again one day, I promise you.  
**

**Now let the sorting begin. Hufflepuff is out. You have seen too much. Your innocence is fleeting, and your mind is far too jaded. You do not trust easily, unless a person proves himself worthy of your loyalty. Ravenclaw may be a tight fit. You seek knowledge, but not for knowledge's sake, eh? You may be at home in Gryffindor, if you are willing to let loose your dark memories and start anew. Slytherin will be by far the best. You are ambitious (you wish to leave the Dursleys at any cost), cunning (you can effectively convince those who doubt you), and sly (you do not wear your heart on your sleeve like fools do). Oh, ho! What is this? Slytherin's gift!  
**

Which house do the Weasleys go to usually?

**Mainly Gryffindor. But I do not feel you will love the house. In Slytherin, you will be helped. In Slytherin, you can easily achieve greatness. In Slytherin, you will come out stronger.**

I want to be with Ron. He's the only one I know.

**Harry Potter, you have been broken too young, so I will make an exception. You may choose your house. I can only hope you will be happy there.**

Will Ron be in Gryffindor?

**Most probably. I can never guarantee anything. I have not yet seen his mind.**

I want Gryffindor.

**Be careful, Harry Potter. You will be different once more. Are you sure? Are you willing to take the risk?**

Yes and yes.

**Tread lightly upon the ground or it shall collapse beneath you. I wish you good luck in your house, Harry. GRYFFINDOR!**

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Please read and review! I hope you like it! Constructive criticism is welcome.**  
**

~Dreams of Disaster


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